I grew up in Riverdale. IN the 1930's. Caves and woods. Warm spring days, long summer
evenings, crisp autumn, slanted sunlight. On the radio: "Jack Armstrong, the all-American boy!"
"This is CX-4, calling Control Tower.
Captain Midnight, coming in!"
"What evil lurks in the hearts of men?
The Shadow knows." The West Indians flew their miniature planes in
Van Cortlandt Park, Saturday and Sunday.
A far off hum. Late at night, if the wind
was right, you could heart the elevated trains
coming and going. The hum of the city was
approaching. I didn't know it then but soon